


peace with oblivion made

by tadok0ro



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Comfort, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tadok0ro/pseuds/tadok0ro
Summary: Renathal walked down the stairs, shirtless, but Vorpalia in hand and the Maw Walker beside him. He was uninjured and suddenly Draven didn’t know what to feel. All the hope he’d cast aside now stood in front of him again in physical form.“My liege…” was all he could manage to say. There was a lot he wanted to say, a lot he wanted to do- reach out and touch him to make sure this wasn’t some cruel illusion left by the Master--The prince, just freed from the Maw, and his loyal stoneborn reunite in Sinfall, before the attack on Denathrius.
Relationships: Draven/Renathal
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	peace with oblivion made

When Theotar informed Draven of the Maw Walker’s work, clearing out Sinfall and redirecting the Light, it seemed too good to be true. 

He landed in that once-forbidden place with a mix of dread and hope twisted in his stomach. Beyond reason, he hoped to find Renathal somewhere within, but he’d flown across Revendreth searching for any sign, any whisper for where he might be and had heard nothing. 

But Sinfall was as empty as he dreaded, the knot untangling into a dull acceptance. The Prince was gone, likely made an example of by the Master, and their rebellion would fail. Draven would fight to the end, he’d already consigned himself to that fate the moment he turned his back on the Stone Legion.

There was a commotion above, voices filtering down to him- more of their troops making their way there perhaps?

Renathal walked down the stairs, shirtless, but Vorpalia in hand and the Maw Walker beside him. He was uninjured and suddenly Draven didn’t know what to feel. All the hope he’d cast aside now stood in front of him again in physical form. 

“My liege…” was all he could manage to say. There was a lot he wanted to say, a lot he wanted to do- reach out and touch him to make sure this wasn’t some cruel illusion left by the Master- but-

“Draven! This is more than I could have hoped for. Report.”

-there was a lot more that needed attention right now.

Renathal glanced at him, their eyes meeting and Draven’s stomach flipped. It hadn’t been  _ that _ long since they were separated, but now… it felt new again- fresh and raw like another beginning- like the glances here and there when Draven admired Renathal from afar in Nathria. When the feeling within him was so new and foreign he naively asked Grashaal about them. 

_ Did other stoneborn feel these things?  _

The older stoneborn grunted, annoyed at the question. He didn’t like it when others pestered him about anything he deemed inconsequential, which turned out to be a lot of things.

“It’s just loyalty, pup,” he had said, turning away from him and the conversation. 

Loyalty- the most important part of a stoneborn, they lived and died by it, but even as Draven turned it around in his head he knew it was something different. 

Loyalty didn’t make his eyes gravitate to the Prince whenever he was near, nor did it make him wonder how soft that white hair would feel against his fingers. It didn’t make his stomach turn into uneasy knots whenever Renathal so much as looked at him, or make his chest flutter at a smile. 

_ Focus. _

He gave his report, falling easily back into his role as General, ignoring the Maw Walker glancing curiously between them. Renathal had a plan like he always did. Another assault on the Master it would be.

“Gather the forces, we will attack soon,” Renathal said to no one in particular and Draven knew it was his queue to leave and get to work…. But his feet would not move. He stood frozen in the spot next to Renathal, listening to him explain his plan to the Maw Walker until they trotted off back to the stairs, to the surface.

They were alone, then. This is what Draven wanted, but now that he had it he gave pause. Somehow the separation felt like a lifetime and he wondered if something had changed. His hands ached to hold Renathal again, but would he even want it? It wasn’t the time for this anyways. 

Renathal turned to him, the swish of his cloth pants deafening in the silence of Sinfall.

“Draven-”

“Prince-”

They both snapped their mouths shut at the same time, staring at each other to let one of them finish speaking. Then Renathal’s face relaxed and he laughed, something weak and tired, but genuine.

“It is good to see you again,” Renathal said, staring up at him with a faint smile on his lips. Just as Draven had remembered. He wanted so badly to bend down and-

“You as well.” If only he were better with words in moments like this. But he needed to keep his mind on track… they would be assaulting Denatharius again soon. As much as he desired, he could wait. He’d waited long enough before.

Renathal glanced to the side, towards the archway leading out where the Maw Walker had left, eyes searching for any trace of someone coming or still lurking around, and Draven  _ knew _ that look. So familiar from their sneaking around in Nathria and Darkwall Tower. Hiding their… whatever it was they shared.

“We don’t have much time…” Renathal started. They  _ had _ time, which was a luxury they didn’t have a few minutes ago. “But…” Renathal stepped forward, almost tentative as he reached out, hands hovering just shy of touching Draven, as if the same worries plagued him as well.

Draven met him halfway, his hands wrapping around Renathal's gently, his grip relaxed so that if Renathal wanted to move away he’d be free to. 

That seemed to dispel whatever doubts his thoughts harbored and Renathal moved, lacing his fingers with Draven’s, holding so tight it seemed as if his life depended on it.

“I didn’t get to say it last time…” Renathal was quiet, nearly whispering, a quiver in his voice. “But if this fight is to be our last-”

“It won’t be,” Draven spoke firm and assured, but he wasn’t sure if he believed that. They had even fewer people than before, would the Maw Walker be enough? “I will do all that I can to make sure it won’t be.” That, he could believe.

Renathal huffed a laugh. “As you always have, my friend. Well then…” He stepped forward again, pressing close to Draven. The feel of flesh against flesh was startling, yet familiar all the same. Memories of a more care-free time. “At least let me do what I couldn’t last time.” He rocked forward onto his toes, face now level with Draven’s. “For good luck?”

Draven lips quirked up into a small smile and leaned in to close the distance between, how could he deny such a request from his prince? 

It was short and chaste, but nice regardless and left him reinvigorated. 

They pulled away but didn’t separate, lingering in each other's presence for what precious few moments they had until the loud whine of metal on metal filtered down through the grate. The Maw Walker was finishing up their part of the plan and Draven still had to rally the troops and Renathal… well, he was still shirtless without a trace of armor on him.

“I must check in on them and get ready…” Renathal said, reluctantly breaking away from Draven’s hold. “We’ll continue this later?” There’s a promise there, of something more should they make it out of the battle alive.

“Later.” Draven nodded before lifting off into the air.

They would survive. He’d make sure of it.


End file.
